Blooper Reel, #003: Carbonnade a la Creole Mk. II

A major aspect of this blog's purpose is experimentation.  This is a forum for sharing my exploration of new and delicious things to cook.  Every so often, this results in failure.  In the interest of full disclosure, honesty, and such I endeavor to share all of my experiments, rather than only those that make me look good.  This experiment, as you will see, ended with a less than stellar result.

The dish I made tonight is a further exploration of the concept of Carbonnade a la Creole: the union of New Orleans style spice with a Flemish style beef-beer-and-onion stew.  My earlier attempt at this was edible, but failed to capture the flavor I was going for.  Now that I have explored creole cooking more deeply, I have a much better sense of how to achieve the spiciness I desire.  I also decided to apply another technique I learned recently, to significantly more mixed results. . .

What follows is the recipe and results that produced tonight's experiment.  I would not recommend copying it exactly.

The Ingredients
Seasoning
-2 bay leaves
-1 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
-1/2 tsp. salt
-1/2 tsp. white pepper
-1 tsp. dry thyme
-1/2 tsp. black pepper
-1/2 tsp. rubbed sage

Roux
-1 cup cooking oil
-1 cup all purpose flour

Meat, Onion, and Other
-1 1/2 lbs. chuck roast, cut into bite size pieces
-1/2 lb. pork tasso, cut into bite size pieces
-2 large onions, chopped
-2 slices bacon, chopped
-1 1/2 tsp. brown sugar
-2 bottles Abita Amber (Munich style lager)
-2 cans beef broth

Finishing
-1 handful fresh parsley, chopped
-1 Tbs. creole mustard

In my previous attempt at this concept I used andouille sausage rather than tasso.  Tasso, I think, fits the concept a little better, so we're going with that.

BEEF!

And this would be the 'tears' portion of tonight's 'blood, sweat, and tears.'

I maintain that beef is the most attractive of raw meats.  A nice cut of beef is a thing of beauty.

The Process
The first step is to brown your beef in a large skillet.  Seasoning at this point is optional, but I always throw in some ground black pepper, just because.  Once the beef is browned, set it aside in a large bowl with any juices the browning may have produced.  De-glaze the pan with some beef broth.  Now fry up the chopped bacon in the pan.  Don't get it too crispy.  Just cook it until the fat has rendered.  Remove the bacon with a wooden spoon and place it with the beef.

The browning of the beef.

Now, add your onions to the bacon grease and cook them until the start to turn a little golden.  Then add the brown sugar 1/2 teaspoon at a time, stirring it into the onions well.  Continue to cook until the onions caramelize and turn a nice rich golden brown color.

Well bacon my skillet and caramelize my onions!

Take the caramelized onions off the heat and make a roux in a dutch oven.  Once the roux is a deep golden brown color, add the caramelized onions and cook for one or two minutes.  Then add the beef, tasso, and bacon.  Then the seasoning mix.  Once it's all mixed in, pour in one bottle of beer and both cans of beef broth.  Bring it to a boil and cook for 2 hours.  About halfway through, add the second bottle of beer (this was less planned and more a reaction to how. . . thick. . . the dish was getting.

A nice golden brown roux.

Onions sizzling away.

With the meat and spice medley.

Just add beer.  I would have liked to have used Abita Abbey Ale, as it's the closest Abita in style to what you would use for Carbonnade a la Flamande.  Unfortunately, they don't have it at the grocery near my folk's place.

Coming along. . .

About ten minutes before it's done, add the handful of parsley and the Tbs. of creole mustard.  I served it with crepes, but spaetzle, rice, or some sort of potato dish would also work.

Well, it's not exactly a tablespoon. . .

Parsley!

The Results
Well, I got the desired spiciness to come out real nice, without the taste bud destroying fire the jambalaya had.  The tasso also lent itself nicely to the dish, blending in nicely with the beef.  My idea is to keep as true to the appearance and spirit of carbonnade as possible, so it definitely does a better job than andouille.

Unfortunately, I probably should have reconsidered the roux.  It was, simply, too much.  It completely took over, making the dish sort of. . . doughy.  I had considered adding some celery and bell pepper to complete the trinity.  This probably would have mitigated the roux somewhat, but I felt that adding these things would have compromised the carbonnade-ness of the dish.  Future attempts at perfecting the dish should either use far less roux, or rely on alternative methods for flour delivery.

CREPES!

Well, this is disappointing.

And hardly appears appetizing.

There.  Don't have to look at it anymore.

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #033: Blini

Tonight I made a dish that has been on my radar for some time: blini.  A blini is a small buckwheat pancake of Russian origin, traditionally served with sour cream and either smoked salmon or caviar.  I opted for the smoked salmon.

The recipes use of clarified butter is what kept me from trying it.  Clarifying butter, while easy, was not something I had tried before, and at my former lodgings in Indiana, I was ill prepared for it.  At home with the folks this obstacle was far less daunting.

The Ingredients
-1/3 cup buckwheat flour
-2/3 cup all purpose flour
-1/2 tsp. baking powder
-3/4 tsp. kosher salt
-3/4 cup and 2 Tbs. milk
-1 egg
-1 stick unsalted butter, clarified and divided

The Process
The actual process of making blinis is about as simple as making pancakes.  That is to say, it's incredibly easy.

In a large bowl, mix together your dry ingredients (buckwheat flour, all purpose flour, baking powder, salt).  In another bowl, whisk together your egg, milk, and 1 Tbs. of clarified butter.  Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, and whisk until the batter is relatively smooth.

The flour mixture.

The combined batter.  The buckwheat flour makes it look rather gritty (it's not).

Add 1 Tbs. of the clarified butter to a large skillet over medium heat.  Once it is heated, add the batter to the skillet in 1 Tbs. increments, making silver dollar-ish sized pancakes.  Cook and flip them as you would conventional pancakes.  Once they're all made, serve them with smoked salmon and a dollop of sour cream.  If you're feeling fancy, add a prig of dill for garnish (I didn't).

The Results
They came out pretty fantastic.  The dish is nice and subdued.  The blinis really are a vehicle for whatever they top and they do the job admirably.  Flavor wise they do not seem that different than the typical pancake, if perhaps a bit less sweet.

The pile of finished blinis.

Blinis, salmon, sour cream, and salad.  A nice, light dinner.

We got adventurous and tried them with pickled herring.

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #032: Baked Eggs Jambalaya

Just as society can be judged by how we treat the least fortunate among us, it can be judged by how we treat our leftovers.  Good food should be enjoyed.  This goes for leftovers as well as the fresh cooked meal.  Occasionally, leftovers lend themselves to the most noble of culinary endeavors: innovation.  It is in the spirit of innovation that I have delved into today's adventure: Baked Eggs Jambalaya.  And, really, it is about time that I revisit the model.

The Ingredients

-1 egg for each ramekin
-Leftover jambalaya
-Creole seasoning
-Butter or butter substitute

The Process
Much as the previous baked eggs experiment, the first step is to grease your ramekins with butter or butter substitute.  Once this is accomplished, fill the ramekins partway with jambalaya and press down in the middle with a spoon, creating a slight indent.  Crack an egg on top of the jambalaya so that the yolk rests in the indent and sprinkle with a little creole seasoning.  You can substitute the seasoning with course ground black pepper if you like.  Given the inherent heat of the jambalaya, this is mainly for garnish.  Bake for 15 to 20 minutes at 350 F.  Remove from the oven and enjoy!

Buttered ramekins: check.

Leftover jambalaya: check.

This gives a good idea of how high I filled the ramekins with jambalaya.  See the indents?

With the eggs and seasoning.

The Results
This was delicious by virtue of the jambalaya being delicious.  That said, the egg experience got lost in the jambalaya experience.  I'd recommend using a little less jambalaya than I did, and maybe adding another layer or two.  Perhaps shredded lettuce or avocado between the jambalaya and the egg.

The ramekin with the most egg white touching the edge had the most integrity, so I would also consider swishing the egg around a little to get the most coverage.

I'm definitely going to make more baked eggs in the near future.  Any ideas?

And out of the oven they come.

This one was the most 'centered.'

Though this one was a little more thoroughly cooked.

I mixed the egg into the jambalaya before I dug in.  The egg was pretty much lost in the jambalaya flavor in the first ramekin.

The second ramekin had more distinct chunks of egg.

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #031: Jambalaya Inferno

Last night I further explored the cuisine indigenous to Southeast Louisiana, the region I have called home for more or less half my life.  The dish prepared was jambalaya.  Specifically "red" or Creole jambalaya, which is characterized by the inclusion of tomatoes and/or tomato sauce.  Jambalaya itself is a medley of tasso or sausage, vegetables (typically onions, celery, and bell pepper), spices, rice, and chicken or seafood.  My research indicates that it is usually cooked solely on the stove top, but the recipe I used starts on the stove and ends in the oven.

The recipe I used comes from a Paul Prudhomme, but the photocopy does not contain page numbers or the title of the cookbook.

The Ingredients
Seasoning
-2 whole bay leaves
-2 tsp. ground cayenne pepper
-1 1/2 tsp. salt
-1 1/2 tsp. white pepper
-1 tsp. dried thyme leaves
-1/2 tsp. black pepper
-1/2 tsp. rubbed sage

Jambalaya Proper
-2 Tbs. unsalted butter
-1/2 pound chopped tasso
-1 1/2 pound boneless chicken, cut into bite-size pieces
-1 medium onion, chopped (divide into two portions)
-2 stalks of celery, chopped (divide into two portions)
-1/2 bell pepper, chopped (divide into two portions)
-6 cloves of garlic, minced
-1 small can of tomato sauce
-1 can of chopped tomato
-2 1/2 cups of chicken stock
-1 1/2 cups uncooked rice (use Uncle Ben's if you don't want it to be crunch)

Pictured: fire.

Veggie portion number one.

Veggie portion number two.

Both veggie portions.  They're added at separate points in the process, so I figured it was best to just lump each portion together instead of dividing each individual ingredient.

Tasso.  This is turkey tasso rather than pork.  Usually you can't tell the difference because it is spiced to heavily, but in this instance I could.

The assembled veggies and meat.  Chopping everything seems to always be an unwritten first step in recipes.

This should give a pretty good idea about how finely I cut the tasso.

Chickens.

The Process
As is usually the case, the first step is to chop up all your ingredients.  The onion, celery, and bell pepper need to be divided into half portions.  It's best to reserve each portion in its own bowl.  The first load can also hold the minced garlic, as it will go in at the same time.  I'd also like to take this opportunity to complain a bit about recipes.  I find recipes that list vegetable ingredients in cups rather than in portions of the vegetable to be less than useful.  Saying 'half an onion' is, for me, much more convenient than saying '1/2 cup of onion.'  Using less precise measurements might create some variance in how each instance of a recipe turns out, but for me that's half the point.  For reference, the recipe I used did call for onions, celery, and bell pepper in exact measurements.  I more or less ignored them and the recipe I am providing reflects that.  The recipe also called for only one tablespoon of garlic.  Just for reference, if a recipe intended for more than one serving ever calls for less than four cloves of garlic, ignore it and go nuts.

The next step is to combine all your spices and to set them aside in a small bowl.

Now melt the butter in a 3 or 4 quart saucepan.  Add the chopped tasso and cook it until it starts to brown.  Once that occurs, toss in your chicken and keep cooking until the chicken browns, or at least cooks thoroughly on the outside.

I've heard that Prudhomme has a low fat cook book.  I'm curious to check it out.

Frying tasso has a truly fantastic smell.

The mothership has landed.

A good reference point: this is about how cooked the chicken was before I moved on to the next step.

The next step is to add the seasoning mix and the first load of veggies, with the minced garlic.  Stir it in and continue to cook it until the veggies start to soften.  Personally, I'm not sure what the best way to tell if the veggies to soften is, so I just used the five minute guideline.   Next comes the tomato sauce.  Add it and stir it in.  Then add the second round of veggies and the chopped tomatoes.

Onion, celery, and bell pepper is apparently often referred to as 'the trinity' in Creole and Cajun cooking.

And in goes the fire.

This is now spicy enough to be considered a chemical weapon.

Tomato sauce: it's what separates the Creole from the Cajun, apparently.

 

Trinity, round two.

I think I'm forgetting something. . .

The next step is to remove the jambalaya from the heat and to stir in the rice and chicken stock.  You then transfer the mixture to a baking pan and bake it for an hour at 350 F.  After this period, remove it from the oven, let it cool for five minutes, and serve.  The recipe advises that a 1 cup serving is suitable for a side dish and a two cup serving is suitable for a main course.

And now for the chicken stock and rice.

She's ready for the oven, captain.

30 minutes into the bake my mother came to me with a can of chopped tomatoes. . . crap.  The tomatoes were hastily added and the baking continued as scheduled.

 The Results
Did I mention that the dish is spicy.  Because it is.  Delicious, but the level of spicy came uncomfortably close to exceeding my tolerance, and I am a lover of spicy food.  The key, as I understand, is to lay off the white pepper a bit.  Maybe use as little as 1/2 teaspoon instead of the 1 1/2 the recipe calls for.

Otherwise, it was fantastic.  Very moist, which is how I like it.  Adding the canned tomato in the middle of the bake, in this respect, was probably a good thing.

A little moist, probably from adding the canned tomatoes late.

Dinner is served.

It is a fairly attractive jambalaya, if I do say so myself.

Thanks to the brew gods for Abita Amber, a Munich style lager made by a local brewery here in Southeast Louisiana.  It is close to the perfect drink to serve with spicy food.

Not sure you can see it, but my stepdad's eyes are watering.